Nevermore
by acommontater
Summary: Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore' Quoth the raven, Nevermore.' The Raven, by Edgar A. Poe


Hello! This is an old story I found. An AU version (kinda sorta) of Edgar Allen Poe's 'The Raven'.

The characters are orginal...mostly. I just borrowed names.

* * *

Nevermore.

Lenore ran home to see what all the fuss was about. The townsfolk of Lonest were all gathered in the town square. The feeling in the air was that of one right before a storm in summer. She stared at them. They stared at her. They looked like a mob, something she had only heard about in the history of her world. The people on Terrie were good, peaceful people. There were no reasons for mobs or hurting anymore.

Besides mobs would throw stones; they always did in the Books. They could not do that because if they broke the glass dome that protected them from the Empties…then everyone would die.

Lenore stared at the crowd. And they stared at her.

Her one true friend, Allen, came running red-faced beside her. He was 17, the same age as her. Even though they were best friends they were complete opposites. She was night to his day.

"Oh I've found you." He gasped "I was trying to find you, to warn you about..."

But the town chancellor spoke then, cutting him off.

"Lenore, please try not to make this harder than it has to be." His voice was tired, and worn. "We accepted you as one of us 6 yrs. ago. But some of the folk have expressed unease about you staying much longer."

She interrupted him.

"Then I will go. You do not have to force me. I knew this day would come. It has happened at all of the other towns. Why should this be any different? I thought I was one of you, that I was accepted. But I thought wrong. You are the same as all of the other sniveling wretches out there. Cowards."

She sneered on the last word, smearing the word in to their faces. On to their hearts, branding them for who they were, but they turned away. They could not face her, because they knew she was right, but they would not accept it. Then Lenore turned on her heel and walked away.

She walked until she found the one door In. It was called door In because no one had ever had cause to go out. And no one was stupid enough open it accidently. Lenore reached for the rusty door handle.

"Lenore, wait!"

Allen, her one true friend, was racing towards her. He stopped in front of her, gasping for air.

"Lenore…you...Can't...Go. Not yet. I...I..." his face went bright red."I don't want you to leave. I…I.. ." He went even redder.

She looked at him for a long, long time. Then she bent down and kissed him, her long dark hair obscuring their faces.

Then she opened the door and ran out in to the empties. Allen stood watching the sand swirl for a long time. Waiting. For three days he stood, waiting for her to come back. But she didn't, he hadn't expected her to. Then he shut the door, locked it, and walked away.

* * *

Allen never married or had a family. Then one day many years later, one of the younguns; bored out of their wits, asked for a story. By this time Allen was the oldest person in the village.

He stared at the little tike for a full minute.

"I don't usually tell stories, but today I will make an exception."

The youngsters face lit up. Soon a swarm of children sat around his feet.

"None of you are old enough to have heard this story. It is about a girl I knew a long, long time ago. She had hair black as a raven's wing and could dance as gracefully as a swan. Her name was Lenore. And this is her story."

And so he began.

* * *

But that was not the end of her story. Somehow long after Allen was dead some of the people of Terrie came to Terra, or Earth. And as Lenore's story was passed down from generation, to generation it became fragmented and embellished until no one truly knew her story.

As one of the Terrains sat in a park one day, he sat next to a young man on a park bench. He told the young man the story of the Lost Lenore, by now an almost mythical character in their minds.

The young man later became famous for his poem about Lenore. The students in their various English classes groan about reading it, but none of them truly know the story of a story behind the words.

* * *

So...yeah. Let me know your thoughts!

~commontater


End file.
